


Hallowed be Thy Name

by TheSleepyNinja15



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crusades, F/M, God - Freeform, Salvation, Spiritual, Tragedy, church, god is a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepyNinja15/pseuds/TheSleepyNinja15
Summary: Pray for us sinners.
Relationships: C.C./Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Kudos: 11





	Hallowed be Thy Name

And in this famine, there is grief. And in this famine, there is tragedy.

Skin, bones, bloodshot eyes of an innocent child lying on the ground waiting for the maggots to come take her away. Maggots to bury in her skin, maggots to feast on what's left of her flesh. Ah, maggots, their true heroes in this pitiful aftermath of war. The ones who take away the pain and misery of finding food to eat, of wondering when's the next ration will be.

Maggots in her unhealing wounds, maggots in her eye sockets and open mouth. Her once long brown hair was a thing admired by the village, her own crown without the royal blood. But now, it is a nest of flies and mosquitoes, and, oh, dear, is that a worm making its way to her ear?

In this famine, there is morbidity. In this famine, there is anguish.

The helpless cries of a young man cradling the head of his dead sister, blaming himself for their unfortunate fate when fate is something uncontrollable and unpredictable. What could a boy do with his frail hands and limited experience? What could a boy do with his broken dreams and soundless wails to control what is beyond his youth? Ah, but he is angry, and vengeful, and so, so sad. So sad that he wants to be buried next to his sister alive. So sad that his violet eyes are black with sorrow. As black as his ebony hair. As black as his tainted soul.

He is so sad that he dreams of burning the whole village with all the scattered bodies so they will all be reunited in the afterlife – with his parents who were killed by merciless soldiers, with his sister whose smile was like the sun, his friends, his good neighbours who never quarrel. Why is he still alive now? Why did he survive? He's sad for he's alone.

Because this Holy War left no blessings but only curses.

Cursed land.

Cursed race.

Cursed belief.

Cursed fate.

The world is nothing but a place of irreconcilable differences and violent solutions. _Join us_ , they said, _and you will be saved. Join us and you shall be rewarded with eternity._

But eternity of what?

Of endless destruction? Of unjust prejudices? Of pretentious praises to gods he never believed in? Who never blessed them with abundant harvests and healthy animals?

 _Have faith_ , they said, _your soul shall be cleansed._

But all they did was erase their existence, erase their identity, their freedom and dreams only to label his people as victory against the devil. They were the devil with their pagan faith and wild dances. They were the devil for their haunting songs and foreign prayers.

They were the devil for they were the few and the other side was the many. And when you are the lesser group, the lesser people, your beliefs are nothing but an anomaly needed to be reformed as the accepted common good.

So his family perished with their blood on the 'good'. So they died to be 'saved'.

But he, the boy who survived, doesn't need their gods and hymns. He already has one who showed him many times what a real blessing is. One who had continuously proven that a pedestal isn't the place where gods belong but among the people, in the people who truly understand the meaning of faith and do not use it as a weapon against the weak. A god who nourishes not destroys – who cries for them and does not execute.

His callous feet brought him to their _church_. His steps echo against the stone walls of a room big enough to hold fifteen people but too small to be called a proper church. But this is their church – _Her church_. And as long as it stands, as long as _She_ exists, no one can take their beliefs away.

"God," he rasps.

And there, before the humble altar the elders made half a century ago, is a young woman with hair as green as moss kneeling. Green, the color of budding leaves, of richness and color of life.

"My God," he repeats as he slowly trudges the short aisle towards her.

Finally, _God_ rises and gently (what an odd word to use this way but it is the most fitting term he can call her manner) turns towards him, and all of a sudden, a wave of unfathomable sadness washes over him. A sadness that is so dark and heavy and consuming that his tears aren't enough to express his grief for a century. So consuming that it feels like he is watching them die all over and over and over again as their souls plead for help and forgiveness but he cannot turn away nor close his eyes. He cannot breathe, he feels like drowning. He feels like dying. There is a worm in his ear, maggots in his hair. His body rots with their sins and agony and he is shaking and aching but he continues. He continues towards salvation.

"My poor people. My poor child," God utters as tears stream out of Her golden eyes. Her ethereal face glows like life among the dead but Her eyes are the fires burning them.

When he reaches Her place, he kneels on all four and talks to the ground. "Why did you let it happen? Why did you let them die?"

"And let them suffer this calamity? My heart weeps for everyone of you. I am in pieces. I am the world ending. But sometimes, death is the only way to salvation."

He doesn't like what he heard. She sounds like their attackers. No. He closes his eyes as he draws a sharp breath. No, this is only another effect of their war. What they aimed to achieve from the very start – for his people to doubt Her and then blame Her for the tragedy these cruel trespassers left so they will turn their backs on their beloved God and worship theirs. No, he wouldn't fall into their trap. He will never betray Her. Not when he is the only one left of his village. But still, he needs to know one thing.

"Then why did you let me live?"

Just then, he feels a cold sensation caressing his cheeks, tilting his head up until his eyes meet Her holy ones. Pain is suddenly gone and completely replaced by peace.

 _Beautiful_.

It's the first word that came to his mind. Her beauty has been revered over time – worshiped, imitated, loved. Her beauty is that of a flower's first bloom in the spring – delicate, refreshing, everlasting. Her face that never gets old is a constant their village needed amidst the changing times of society. A comfort knowing that Her understanding eyes and soft sighs were always there, infront of Her little altar anticipating their cries and remorse. That Her lulling voice was always, always ready to shush their worries away.

But now, there is no one who will seek her comfort and it breaks his heart.

 _Beautiful_.

He doesn't deserve to witness this beauty upclose. To be blessed and touched by such purity when he is as filthy as a rat. But Her kindness knows no bounds like the true God that She is.

She is full of grace.

"Because you still have faith," She whispers. "You still believe in Me and there's still something you need to do and it shall be done."

"In Your name," he supplies.

And finally, She smiles and it feels like the Heaven opens up above him.

"It is just you and Me now. I will never leave you. I will take care of you. And when you succeed on fulfilling your purpose, you will be reunited with your family."

"My God, my Savior, my soul is Yours. Thy will be done."

God gently puts his head down on Her lap and begins singing the hymn for abundant harvest as She strokes his hair. Her light slender fingers ease the knot of anger holding his heart tightly. Closing his eyes, he sees his family and friends waiting for him at the other side of the darkness screaming in agony. Their voices meld with Hers until he cannot distinguish anymore which is Salvation and which is Hell. But then, the hunger, the grief, and the tragedy gradually fade away leaving him only the sense of elation and security.

She grants mercy on his soul.

And in this famine, there is hope.


End file.
